


Lamentations

by FandomPandaBear



Category: SPN, Supernatural
Genre: #Dean Is A Bottom, Angst, BBY ANGEL SON, CASTIEL IS MY BBY, Dean is my other bby son, Destiel - Freeform, Fluffy Sadness, I thought it would be poetic...., I'm such trash for this ship, M/M, Please Don't Kill Me, Please don't hate me for this, Sorry Not Sorry, Super angsty, Yes I named this after the bible book, aaaaangst, castiel - Freeform, much angsty, precious gaybies, series?, why isn't this canon?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-07-11 14:30:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7056364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FandomPandaBear/pseuds/FandomPandaBear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel has always wanted to tell Dean. Tell him that he loves him.<br/>But he can't.<br/>It's too late now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lamentations

“Hello Dean,” I say.

He doesn’t hear me when I walk up to him. He’s lying down. He’s asleep.

Good.

No, he _can’t_ hear me. I don’t feel his soul. But that’s perfectly fine… actually, it’s a rather nice situation to be in. This makes it easier. So much easier.

But that doesn’t make it better.

“I never thought I’d meet a hunter that would be anything more than a talking monkey in pants…Not to say that you _aren’t_ a talking monkey in pants. But…”

This is a new feeling to me. I’ve never done this before. I don’t think I can. But I know I need to

“…You are more than that, Dean. You’re more than that to me.”

Humans are such troublesome creatures. They tend to over-complicate everything and make big messes they simply don’t know how to fix.

“You and Sam…”

Yet how different is that from angels? Over-complications are the only thing we have ever done.

“I’ve always watched over you, watched you and Sam, kept you safe. I’ve lost so much .... The civil war, the fall…”

So how different can Dean be from me?

“I’ve done it all … to protect you.”

I don’t know how to say it. I don’t know how long I’ve wanted to.

“But it was worth it, I think. …  I’ve gained more than I’ve lost.”

I remember when I lost my grace, and how difficult it was to be human. I remember how it felt. How it felt to _feel._

“I have so much more now.”

I remember how Dean felt. How he feels to me.

“I have you, Dean.”

Angels aren’t meant to fall in love with humans. Especially hunters.

“I promised to protect you Winchesters. I promised to protect _you._ ”

I think I’m crying. Angels don’t cry. They can’t. I can’t.

“You are my family, Dean. You and Sam.”

But I’m no angel. Not anymore.

“But you, Dean. You...You’re more. You’ve always been so much more.”

I hate this. I hate myself.

I finally say it, “I love you, Dean.”

I hate myself for loving him.

“I just wish…I could have told you.”

I don’t think I need to be an angel. I don’t think I want to be.

“I wish I could have told you sooner."

I want him with me. I want Dean.

“I love you, Dean...I love you.”

Not that any of it matters. It’s far too late now.

 

I don’t remember how Dean died. I don’t want to. I just know it was my doing. Sam says it wasn’t my fault, that there isn’t anything I could have done.

But there is something I could have done. I could have protected him.

I should have fulfilled my obligation. I should have kept my promise.

 

I assembled his gravestone shortly after his death; it’s a small slab of white marble. I planted it in Lawrence, Kansas—Dean’s birthplace. I engraved his name with my own Angelic Blade.

I like to imagine he’s sleeping there. Because that’s better than the thought of him in Hell.

Yes, that’s right. He’s sleeping.

Dean— _alive_ Dean—sleeps, as they say, like an angel. (a false aphorism. Angels don’t sleep). Because it’s the only time he appears to be at peace.

I like to imagine he’s like that now. At peace.

He’s just sleeping.

 

I hate this gravestone.

 

Sam wanted me to cremate him, and throw his ashes down a ditch. He said it was ‘dead weight.’ I couldn’t stand the fact of leaving him behind that way. Dean is anything _but_ dead weight. So I told him we needed a gravestone.

I didn’t make his gravestone to honor him. 

I did it because I’m selfish. Because I like to visit him. I love seeing him. Even if it’s just a slab of stone, it’s the closest I can get to him now.

So I see him every day.

 

I wish I didn’t have to build his grave.

I wish I could have spoken to him sooner.

I didn’t, though. I couldn't.

 

“I love you.”

 

I hate myself for loving him.

I hate myself for losing him.

 

“Where are you, Dean? Why can’t you hear me?”

**Author's Note:**

> Hah...Sorry about that...
> 
> I hope you....liked it?  
> I hope you //got// it.
> 
>  
> 
> If any of you are wondering what happened: Dean died on hunting mission (whatever that mission may be; demons, angels, God's ass, etc.) and this time, it looks like he's staying dead. Castiel has come to be infatuated with him now. But he's never told him. How could he? 
> 
> Now he's too late. Dean is gone and he can't find his soul.


End file.
